ad hoc
by Cora Clavia
Summary: Castle's brilliant idea - "act drunk" - is not cutting it. She makes a mental note never to listen to him again. Ever. About anything. - fill for the winter hiatus kink meme.
1. Chapter 1

Season 1.

Edited by the _tres charmante_ Polly Lynn.

* * *

Beckett staggers convincingly, giggling, her heart sinking as she minces through the dark alley.

They need to get inside the warehouse, but the burly, sour-faced guard between them and the door is not looking promising. Castle's brilliant idea - _act drunk_ - is not cutting it. She makes a mental note never to listen to him again. Ever. About anything.

"He's not buying it, Castle," she murmurs into his chest. Great. An idiot civilian tagging along, Ryan and Esposito held by mobsters, no backup, and she chose today of all days to start taking Castle's suggestions.

Time for plan B. The plan that includes her gun.

The guard's walking their way. She has a split second. She slides her hand inside her coat, unbuttons her holster -

- suddenly Castle grabs her wrist. Yanks. She's too surprised to do anything but stare at him. What is he -

Oh.

His hand is on her face, he's staring at her intently, and she knows. She knows exactly what he's going to do.

There's a moment, a brief second in which it almost seems like he's silently asking permission, and then his mouth is on hers.

It's hot and fast and too much. He's so good at this. His mouth is thorough, deliberate, like he's done this before - like he's imagined kissing her before - and that thought breaks something inside her, her whole body crackling like a live wire. His tongue slips into her mouth easily, teasing, and -

Kate jerks back, breathing hard, searching his face - _Castle, what the _hell - but this is new, this look on his face. Shocked. Like he can't believe what he just did.

She should be angry. She should be furious. She should -

She grabs his shoulders, yanks him closer and kisses him hard.

If the first kiss was shock, this one's pure fire. She buries her hands in his silky hair, nipping at his bottom lip, tugging at it, running her tongue over it. Castle pulls her tighter, sucking on her tongue, and she gasps. Oh. _Oh._ She's pressed up against him, clutching at him, and she can feel exactly how he's reacting to this and it's too much, too fast.

There's a soft chuckle and she snaps back into reality. Icy air on her skin. Dark alley. Guard.

Kate pulls her mouth away, turns and knocks the guard down with one swift kick.

She stands there, staring, trying to ignore Castle stumbling behind her. He lets out a breath. "That was amazing."

Her heart is racing. _No, no no no._

He catches her eye and immediately backpedals. "The - way you knocked him out like that. Yeah."

She turns away because she needs to stop looking at his mouth. Now.

"Let's go."

* * *

The plan works; they get in, catch the murderer and his cohorts - a set of brash thugs who've been terrorizing patrons of a swanky restaurant - rescue Ryan and Esposito, and everything works the way it should.

Beckett spends the rest of the evening doing her job, processing the arrest, filing the paperwork, taking statements, and not looking Castle in the eye. And he seems to get it - he stays quiet for once. When Esposito makes a crack about an attractive female witness, Castle doesn't even respond.

It's weird. It's not right.

But what happened in that alley was fake. She's steadfast on that point. It wasn't real.

* * *

They work through most of the night; it's almost four in the morning by the time Montgomery tells them to go home and take the day off.

Kate sleeps. Dreams about the kisses that weren't real. Castle's face. Castle's hands. His clothes hitting the floor. Satin sheets. Writhing. She wakes up sweaty and flushed.

He calls once that afternoon. She doesn't pick up.

* * *

When he knocks on her door that night, she knows what's going to happen.

Kate pauses, hand halfway to the deadbolt.

She hates him. This is a terrible idea.

She opens the door.

Castle's standing there, hair mussed. He hasn't shaved. And the expression on his face stops her. It's unsure.

_This is a terrible i-_

She opens her mouth, but then he's kissing her and whatever she was going to say gets lost.

* * *

_prompt: season 1 – like in Kockdown, Castle and Beckett have to kiss as a ruse to fool a guard, but this is back when she "hated" him_


	2. Chapter 2

Kate hears him kick the door shut behind them and then they're stumbling blindly through her apartment. She almost trips over her coffee table as she fumbles with his shirt, yanking it out of his waistband, struggling with the buttons.

She's wound up so tight, her body hot and humming and needy and just _frantic_, and they were sort of aiming for the couch but suddenly he's squeezing her ass and lifting her up and she's wrapping her legs around his waist.

"Bedroom?" he murmurs, biting at her collarbone.

"Hal-_hallway_," she stammers as he starts sucking on her neck, his stubble rasping over her skin.

Castle carries her into her bedroom, hissing as he clips the doorframe with his elbow, and she huffs out a laugh that he swallows in a brief, hard kiss.

* * *

He undresses her deliberately, tugging her shirt over her head, pulling her jeans down her legs so slowly she's aching with anticipation. This isn't the Castle she's used to, this dark-eyed man with infinite patience who's touching her like he wants her to completely lose control.

It's been a long time - longer than she'd care to admit - and as he drops her bra on the floor and palms her breasts, she fists her hands in his shirt, squirming, blindly chasing his mouth to kiss him, get some kind of control. She wants it fast and rough but he's playing with her. He's taking it slow.

He swirls his tongue over her nipple, tugging at it lightly with his teeth. She's pinned to the mattress beneath him, trying to pull his shirt off but not really succeeding because he draws his knee up into the tight wetness between her legs and her body jerks. The bastard has that smug, self-satisfied look on his face that she just wants to lick right off - he thinks he's going to make her come before she gets his clothes off, does he?

With a growl of (sexual) frustration, Kate tenses up and manages to roll him under her. It catches him off guard, and she ends up astride his hips, settled snugly against the hard, hot bulge in his pants, watching with satisfaction as his eyes go hazy. "Beck - _fuck_ - Kate - "

It's just waves of pure heat as she grinds into him slowly and leans over to steal the words out of his mouth with her eager tongue, blind and searching and desperate as he slides his hands down her back to dip under her panties.

She finally pulls her mouth away because he needs to not be wearing pants anymore. He jerks when she slips her hand through the slit in his boxers, wrapping her fingers around him and squeezing gently. Her mouth goes dry. Fuck. He's big. Big and hot and hard.

She's tossing his clothes on the floor when he catches her wrist and flips her back on the bed, pinning her under him with a devilish look on his face, and she's squirming in arousal but he's got her trapped and he's stripping her underwear off and oh _shit_ if that isn't totally, totally doing it for her right now.

He's trailing his way down her body, his lips and tongue and teeth exploring her skin, and Kate's flushed and sweaty in anticipation. He's still teasing, the asshole, scraping his scruffy jaw against her skin as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to her inner thigh, and just when she's about to explode because she can't bear it anymore, his tongue swirls over her clit and her eyes go blurry.

He works his tongue over her, sucking lightly, fingers toying with her, dipping slowly inside her wetness. And it's good – fuck, it feels so good – but she needs more, she's been desperate since he first started sucking on her tongue last night and she just wants him _everywhere_.

She tugs sharply at his hair and he seems to get the message; he crawls back up her body, kissing her long and deep, letting her taste her own arousal on his tongue. He's nestled between her legs, her whole body sharp with need, and it's pure relief when he pushes her knees up and slides into her slowly, painstaking, inch by inch.

She chokes out a sob – oh _fuck_ – it's too much, it's been a long time and he's _big_ and thick and it's tight and aching as she stretches to accommodate him, her inner muscles flexing around his hot, heavy girth.

Kate gasps, clawing at the sinewy muscles of his back as his dick twitches inside her. His whole body is tight, every muscle straining, and then he pulls back and smoothly thrusts into her and her eyes roll back in her head.

He's slow and steady and relentless and she's finally begging, choking out _oh fuck_ and _Castle please_ until he loses control, rutting against her harder and faster and then he hits the exact spot she needs and she breaks apart, shatters, her whole body seizing up around him.

She falls asleep before she remembers that she hates him.

* * *

It has to be sometime in the wee hours of the morning – still dark – when she wakes just enough to hear him murmuring _I have to go home – Kate – I'll see you later –_

Kate can't see a clock, but she's tired and the bed is warm, so warm, and it smells good. So she sighs some kind of response that must satisfy him. She feels warm, soft pressure on her lips, fingers brush gently over her cheek, and then she's fast asleep again, her face buried in a pillow that smells like him.

* * *

That morning she stands in front of her mirror, swiping her short, sex-tousled hair out of her face, tracing the faint outline of a bite mark on her shoulder.

Fuck.

The stubble marks he left on her pale skin are still visible, and tender to the touch. So she wears a turtleneck to work. And pants that are loose on her thighs.

She tells herself last night was a mistake.


	3. Chapter 3

Kate gets to work half an hour earlier than usual.

She was half-hoping he'd stay out of the precinct today. But when she walks back in from the break room, a half-eaten bagel in one hand, she freezes. There's coffee on her desk.

Castle's sitting talking to Ryan and Esposito at their desks. She almost steps back out, but Ryan sees her and waves. "Beckett. Hey. You got here early."

"Yeah."

Esposito waves a sheaf of papers at her. "Got the stuff on our perps processed. You want to take a look?"

"Sure."

She means to come over and take them, but Castle - of course - snags them and shuffles over, handing them to her. "Hi."

"Hi." Her throat closes up. He looks delicious. He looks rumpled and sexy and even scruffier - how is it even possible? - and last night was a terrible mistake that she wants to repeat. Right now. In any empty office they can find.

His eyes linger on her mouth, but then he looks at her turtleneck. Her face goes hot. Because he knows exactly what she's hiding.

"I brought you coffee," he murmurs, and her chest gets tight. No. This can't happen.

She straightens up.

"I'm not thirsty."

That hits him. His face falls, flickering from confused to hurt and back to confused, and it twists her heart - _shit_ - so hard she has to look away. No, Castle. No. Don't do this. Don't make it something it's not.

"Sorry."

He steps away and mumbles something apologetic, and it's so very not Rick Castle that it hurts her to watch.

* * *

The day gets worse.

After she brushes him off, Castle just - sort of - gives up. He hangs around Ryan's desk. He makes paper footballs with Esposito. He has an extended conversation about fantasy football with Montgomery. He even discusses his daughter's nail polish colors with Karpowski.

But he keeps shooting her these looks, longing looks he has no business giving her, from wherever he is, and Kate just can't deal with it. She can't keep staring at his stubbled jaw and remembering the slow torture of his hands and lips and body. It was wrong.

She's off-balance, he's not himself, and it's all his fault, because it was _his_ bright idea to kiss in that dark alleyway.

Besides. He's the one who left her alone in bed, isn't he?

_But he kissed me before he left._

Or did she dream that part?

* * *

When Castle leaves at lunchtime, he tells the boys it's a slow day and he wants to get some writing done. He's convincing. But he doesn't quite meet Kate's eyes before the elevator doors close.

Ryan shakes his head. "He seem weird today, Boss?"

"What do you mean?"

Ryan shrugs. "I don't know. He just - seemed kind of off. Like he was thinking about something else."

She knows exactly what he was thinking about. But she keeps her face neutral. "It's not my day to watch him."

* * *

That night, she breaks a plate, drops a book, and almost drops her phone into the kitchen sink before she finally gives in.

It's midnight when she gets to his door, and she knocks before she can change her mind.

_I'm here to talk to him. That's all._

The door swings open. He looks tired. Scruffier. Half-awake. In a rumpled white t-shirt and shorts.

"Kate?"

That's all it takes - his voice is low, husky with sleep, so unbearably sexy, and suddenly she can't keep her hands off him. And then they're stumbling into his bedroom and he's kicking the door shut behind them.


	4. Chapter 4

So much for talking.

Once she's in his bedroom and out of her clothes, Kate ends up straddling his hips, moaning as his hips buck up into her. She scrapes her nails against his chest, gasping as he grazes his thumb over her clit. Fuck. _Fuck_.

Her whole body is tight, heat writhing under her skin, and it's too much, and then she makes the mistake of meeting his eyes. His gaze is piercing, his face taut, but his eyes - oh, fuck, the look on his face -

It's all too much to take in, too real, and she screws her eyes shut and lets out a strangled cry as the orgasm washes through her, blinding and hot and overwhelming, and he spills into her with a deep, guttural groan.

Kate slumps against his chest, trembling, every nerve ending crackling. She's limp and sore and just utterly, completely spent.

"Kate." He takes a long breath. "_Kate_."

She just can't.

So she kisses him, long and slow and languid, desperate, swallowing whatever the words are before he can say them. His hands fist in her short hair, pulling her closer, and his tongue is slow, searching, deliberate. Like he didn't just make her completely undone.

He's kissing her like he means it.

* * *

He falls asleep soon, and she slides carefully out of bed, snags her clothes, dresses quietly, and slips out the front door.

* * *

Back at her apartment, Kate throws herself into a scalding shower, hissing as the hot water pounds her muscles. She's sore. She's the good kind of sore, in all the right places, and this just keeps getting worse and worse.

She wasn't going to sleep with him. Not this time. It was over. It was out of her system. But sleeping with him was so much easier than talking to him.

But after her shower, she pulls on sweats and falls into bed, where she stares at her ceiling and thinks about all the reasons he's a bad idea. The ring and watch are in the jewelry box, as always, but they still hang heavily on her. The signs of her fractured past. All the pieces she's broken into. He doesn't know. He's guessed. But he doesn't know.

She doesn't need another charming, handsome bad boy throwing her whole life into an upheaval.

She doesn't know how she's going to look him in the eye now.

* * *

"Have a good day at school, sweetheart."

Alexis hugs him quickly. "Bye, Dad. I have French Club after school, so I'll be home a little later than usual."

She hurries out the door, leaving Castle leaning heavily on the kitchen island, staring into his coffee cup. Damn.

"You know that stuff works better when you drink it, kiddo?"

He looks up to find his mother watching him in amusement, sipping her own coffee. "Yes. Thank you, Mother."

"Long night?" Her eyebrows arch, and he has the terrible, sinking feeling that she knows too much.

"Yeah."

"I assume it's the same woman who kept you out till 4am yesterday?" His head snaps up, but his mother just shrugs. "Well. Neither of you were quiet _last_ night, darling. Though I don't think Alexis heard anything."

He buries his face in his hands. "This is a mess."

"Richard. It - it's Kate Beckett, isn't it?" It's a question but he can tell she already knows the answer, because she doesn't wait for it. "She didn't stay?"

"I don't - " he sighs heavily. "I don't know what she wants."

"Do you know what _you_ want?"

Rick stares at his coffee cup again.

"I don't know."

But he thinks that might be a lie.

* * *

He doesn't show up at the precinct that day.

Lanie stops in from the morgue at lunchtime, and Kate finds herself having to explain Castle's sudden absence.

"I don't know." She hides her face behind her coffee. "He just told the boys he wasn't coming in today."

Lanie frowns, chewing a mouthful of salad. "You haven't talked to him?"

Kate shakes her head. That's one thing that's absolutely true. She definitely hasn't talked to him.

"Very weird." Lanie fixes her with a suspicious look, and Kate's heart sinks. "Did something happen? Did Writer Boy do something I don't know about?"

Kate shakes her head faintly. "No."

"Did you do something to him? Did you yell at him?" Lanie grins. "Did you just climb on and ride him like a stallion? Because I've been telling you to do that."

Kate chokes on her sandwich. "No. Definitely not."

* * *

It's not even a surprise when there's a knock at her door that night.

Kate opens it slowly to find Castle. As she expected. But this is different. He's shaved. Clean-cut. Crisp shirt. Pristine blazer. His shoes are polished.

And he's holding a bouquet of soft pink and red orchids.

Her heart sinks in her chest and she can't breathe.

"Kate."

His voice is so quiet. So soft. It's warm and it wraps around her, just that one syllable, and she already knows she can't win.

"Kate. Can we talk?"


	5. Chapter 5

"Kate. Can we talk?"

He sees her freeze, her face pale, and he knows this isn't good but he needs this. He needs to know why this thing that was supposed to be fun has started pulling them apart.

"Castle." She takes a deep breath, and he can tell she's steeling herself. Building up walls he still doesn't understand. "I don't - I just can't."

He sighs. Beckett is shut down, locking him out, her whole body tense with resistance, and he suddenly has the terrible realization that she's a mystery he's never going to solve. Because she won't let him.

"I -"

Nothing. She gives him nothing.

This was a bad idea.

Castle sighs. Holds out the flowers. "I'm sorry I bothered you."

She doesn't move. Doesn't say anything. Just stares at him, arms folded tight across her chest. She doesn't reach for the flowers.

Flowers. Coffee.

He feels like an idiot.

"Please - please take them."

She hesitates, but finally she takes them, avoiding his eyes, deliberately not meeting his eyes. And what message is this? It's just his desperate need for _something_, some connection, some sign she'll accept him.

And for all his words and all his charming persona, he's lost right now.

The sex is amazing. He knew it would be. They work, physically, sexually, they fit in every sense of the word and he'd thought it was casual. Fun. Easy.

But if this was really casual sex, it wouldn't have hurt when she refused his coffee. Actual hurt, a blow to his chest he couldn't have resisted.

So maybe this isn't casual.

And he doesn't understand why she's trying to pretend it never happened.

She re-folds her arms over her chest, a barrier, armor. He knows she wants him to go. She wants to collect herself.

"I should - go."

His hand is on the doorknob when he stops. This is what she wanted, isn't it? He turns back to her and squares his shoulders. "If you really want me to go, I will. But first I want to know what's going on."

"What do you mean?"

The frustration is searing through his skin, because he wants her in too many ways and this is entirely her fault for being obstinate. "I have no idea what you want. You want to sleep together? Okay. Yeah. Turns out we're really good at it. But I have no idea why that suddenly means you act like you hate me. You want to tell me why you've turned into the ice queen?"

"Castle. Castle, it's not -" she takes a step back - "It's personal."

"We're sleeping together, Kate. It's a little late for that."

"Why are you being like this?"

"Why? You want to know why? You ignore me at work. You come to my place and fuck me senseless instead of talking. You sneak out when I fell asleep, like you're goddam _ashamed_, and now you want me to leave so you can be alone. _That's_ what's going on here."

Her eyes are blazing, and now he's at least made her angry. It's a reaction. "Don't you pin this on me." Her face is crumpled, hurting, and he hates this and he just wants it to end. "You're the one who left the first night."

"_I_ went home to see my daughter before she left for school. _You_ snuck out like you wished it hadn't happened. How long did you wait after I fell asleep? A minute?"

He knows it's true because her eyes get wide, her mouth opens, but she just gives up. She sort of - deflates. And suddenly that's even worse. She looks defeated. And he never wanted to fight with her.

"Kate." He's noticed this gets her. Her first name. Maybe because he first started saying it in bed. "I'm not angry. I just - I want to know why this is completely screwed up."

She's watching him with this sad look that hurts, a look he never wants to see, and something occurs to him. He swallows. "If you don't want this - this relationship - "

"This isn't a -"

"Kate. Don't."

She stops. Sighs.

"Castle - I never - I didn't mean for it to get this far."

It's a mess but at least they're talking, and somewhere between spending forty minutes picking out flowers and knocking at her door, he lost most of his filter. "I know. I know. It just kind of happened. We kissed. And then we slept together. And then we did it again. And I'm not giving you a ring or picking out curtains, but I really, really wish you could at least tell me what's wrong."

He can see the slump of her shoulders, the conflict in her eyes, and he wants to kiss her again but he wants her to _want_ him to kiss her. And there's something standing between them, some wall she's never let him scale. Not yet.

He wants more. How does he show her that?

"You want the truth?"

He nods. "Yes." _More than anything_.

"When we met - " She takes a moment, some quiet breath to steady herself - "you guessed something about me. About my past."

"Beckett - Kate - "

She looks away, her eyes coming to rest on the flowers he brought with such desperate intentions, and he can't help himself. "Your father?"

She looks back up at him, her arms folded tight , her face resigned.

"It was my mother. Not my father."


End file.
